“A word? What word?” she gasped.
“Any word—the word that is in your heart.” There was no use talking loud. His arm was about her again.
“There is no word in my heart—you have squeezed it out,” she managed to say.
“You would not let me lay a finger on you if you did not love me—I know that,” said he.
“You know that, and yet you ask me to say something to you. Talking is a sinful waste of time.”
“So it is, my darling girl. You have said it: out of the fulness of the heart the mouth——”
“Kisses—that is what it does; it doesn’t speak—it cannot.”
“Since when has that knowledge come to you, Priscilla.”
“I confess that it is newly acquired. You make an excellent coach for a backward girl, my master.”
“You are not backward; it is only that your education has been neglected.”